


easier than you think

by harklights



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, M/M, Online Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5525621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harklights/pseuds/harklights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, listen,” Tanaka insisted with gusto, hands splaying like he was sharing an age old wisdom. Narita listened with half an ear because Tanaka did habitually give good advice even if it was cushioned between a lot of gusto. “When a guy uses a dating app and puts other guys as an interest it’s always code for ‘Wow I’m not 100% sure about this yet but I’m probably down if I find someone nice and cute.’ Like ‘Maybe if this starts going somewhere I’ll give the guy a chance, but only if he shows interest too.’"</p>
            </blockquote>





	easier than you think

**Author's Note:**

  * For [museicalitea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/museicalitea/gifts).



**< and then, no joke, after save scumming the same exact thing happened a second time**

Narita gulped his coffee so fast that a sear of heat washed across his taste buds. He winced and reached for his phone, tender sensitivity scorched into his mouth as he ran his tongue across the back of his teeth.

> no way

**< i literally and figuratively died a million times**

> impressive. it sounds like you usually don’t suck that bad at video games…

**< hey!!**

Narita grinned, paused to dump a liberal amount of creamer into his styrofoam cup until the contents swirled into a tawny brown. The next sip was slightly easier on his abused palate. Leaving the quiet corner of the office refreshment area, Narita made his way back to his desk and pulled himself close to the desktop so he could hunch over in the pretense of doing busywork. A second later he felt a paperclip land on top of his head, and then another flounce off his cheek when he didn’t respond to the first assault. He brushed them both into one palm and tossed them over the barrier back onto Tanaka’s side of the cubicle, heard them clatter, and reached for his cell phone again.

> you’re way better than i am at them. games

**< that’s because you do suck and that was just animal crossing**

> the timing for fishing is hard!

**< there’s one button to push**

> fish naturally don’t want to be caught!

**< fake fish. one button. barely a qte**

> a what?

**< qte??? it’s English**

It’s another abbreviation that he had to look up to be completely sure of its meaning. A search brought up the term Quick Time Event, when the player has to hit one or a number of buttons in order to complete a sequence or else risk taking damage and/or altering the story in a significant way. Narita wondered, for the umpteenth time, if he should swing by his parent’s house and grab the PS3 his little brother had commandeered so he can have a legitimate excuse… a _ready topic…_ a _conversation piece_ at hand with which he could reliably initiate a chat. But then he was hardly up to speed with current games and anticipated new releases anymore like Kinoshita seemed to be, so maybe he should sacrifice his heavy Mac-preference and invest in a PC and sign up for a Steam account and buy one of those sketchy sounding indie horror games that he remembered Kinoshita mentioning at an obscene time of night when they both should have been sleeping but were bogged down by work instead – Narita with an impending deadline after a ludicrously slow production day, Kinoshita with one of his freelance commissions.

…Why was he even considering this? A lack of shared hobbies hadn’t hindered them in any huge way so far. Their friendship had formed smoothly and without stress. Narita found it easy to talk to Kinoshita about even the silliest, most mundane things. Really, really, incredibly easy…

He jabbed a button and cleared the search bar.

_do i need virus protection for a pc |_

“You should just meet up with the boy already,” Tanaka said, suddenly rearing up over the cubicle, arms folded atop the barrier, barely using his indoor voice for breeching such a personal topic. Narita hoped no one else was around. “You’re smiling so hard that I can barely hear my radio program.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Narita muttered, squinting at a grabbing headline of _I Still Don’t Use Anti-Virus Software. Am I Nuts?_ “And he said he wasn’t looking for that kind of relationship months ago.”

“Then why was he using a _dating_ app, man?”

Narita swallowed a groan because they’ve talked about this at least once a week ever since he started speaking to Kinoshita Hisashi. Tanaka’s insistence on playing wingman to an online relationship meant he asked a lot of questions and gave dubious advice like _Try asking him out for a date!_ And, well… It was true that he and Kinoshita lived in the same city. The app confirmed that before they even began a conversation with each other, likely matched them up partly because of their proximity. But even though Sendai was no Tokyo in terms of size, it still brushed into the million range in population. More if you went beyond the city limits and included all those people who might commute back and forth to work or school. Meeting up wouldn’t be convenient. Meeting up would require planning and finding a location, a restaurant, a _thing_ to do and working out a time that wouldn’t impede on either of their daily schedules and… and picking out a date outfit and wrestling with date expectations and date anxieties and maybe-asking-for-another-date anxieties and finding out that Kinoshita might have a terrible, debilitating, _life-threatening_ allergy to nut products in the worst possible way in the middle of an otherwise mediocre dinner.

 _Lol you’re crazy,_ one forum member wrote, _Get an anti-virus program immediately, be sure you’re backing up your stuff onto an external hard drive at least once every several months. One bad link can crash your whole computer._

“No, listen,” Tanaka insisted with gusto, hands splaying like he was sharing an age old wisdom. Narita listened with half an ear because Tanaka did habitually give good advice even if it was cushioned between a lot of gusto. “When a guy uses a dating app and puts other guys as an interest it’s always code for ‘Wow I’m not 100% sure about this yet but I’m probably down if I find someone nice and cute.’ Like ‘Maybe if this starts going somewhere I’ll give the guy a chance, but only if he shows interest too.’ You’re the textbook definition of nice and cute! You gotta go for it! If you keep the friend charade up you’ll be treadin’ water for ages.”

“It’s not a charade,” Narita grunted and hunched, somewhat affronted by the assessment. He said Kinoshita was cute, _once,_ when he first found his profile picture, but that was all. Not that he wasn’t cute anymore, but putting it that way made it sound like Narita could have some… some ulterior motives past the bond they’ve already forged, and that would be weird.

“Okay, okay, that wasn’t the right thing to say, I know he’s your friend. Friends can be cute too. I’m only saying: Nothing risked nothing garnered.”

“People use dating apps to find friendship all the time, especially if it’s harder for you to be… accepted… as easily as everyone else.” He typed gibberish into the search window and then hit backspace a myriad of times, satisfied when it sounded rather productive. “I’m fine with that too.”

Tanaka loosed a snort and leaned closer. “You said that with this huge frown on your face. Come on, it’ll be easier than you think.”

Narita sighed and pushed back his chair, looking up at Tanaka, but his eyes were instantly drawn to the side. Narita traced the limb propped on the divider up to a familiar face, felt his eyes grow wide, and ducked his head in a hurry, rushing to open his work email.

“What-- Holy fuck, Yaku-san! Mornin’!”

“Morning. Working hard?” Yaku’s smiling voice looped up over the cubicle, his expression easy to imagine when paired with the staccato of something being tapped repeatedly. He was probably peering at Tanaka’s desktop and the lowly murmuring radio that was still babbling out the morning news.

“Oh. The hardest. Oh, total crunch time. Clients just…” Narita heard the clumsy fumble of Tanaka’s fingers clattering against a keyboard. “Everywhere.”

“You guys are worse than the interns and you’re here _with_ a paycheck.”

“Man, Lev’s trying though,” Tanaka quipped with a tight laugh.

“Uh huh,” Yaku’s head popped over the divider. “Hey, Narita? Try to take a look at that proposal before noon, okay? We really want these guys with us.”

Narita straightened with a nod. “I’ll take a look right now.”

“Good man,” Yaku said, disappearing from view. Narita knew he was gone by the little sigh Tanaka released. They don’t go back to talking, finally getting into the work mood, but Narita taped out one last message before putting his phone face down on his desk.

> i’ll get better if i play more. isn’t that how it always works?

**< maybe**

**

Work passed in an average way, leaving him happy to get home but not utterly exhausted on the packed train car. The autumn weather was turning more brisk with every passing day, tree lined streets littered with bright dead leaves and spindly branches reaching for the skies. It wasn’t as pretty as early autumn anymore, when the leaves first changed colors and made the trip home from the station a small spectacle to behold, but Narita loved sweater weather, even if work dress code relegated him into bringing a jacket on most days rather than layering up in his favorite cozy sweaters.

He threw open the front door and could tell right away that his roommate was in by the belongings left there and the smell of food hanging in the air. As soon as soon Narita came close enough Ennoshita called out from over one shoulder.

“Hey, Kazu, can you grab the fish sauce for me? I just put it back on the middle shelf.”

Narita turned toward the cabinet, shuffling through several bottles before finding the right one and tapping it against Ennoshita’s shoulder. “I feel like half of that stuff is expired.”

“Thank you. Some of the spices just might be.” He shifted the wok over the flame, flipping its contents around.

“Smells good. Pad thai?”

“Mhm. Figured we should not eat take out for once, and it’s been my turn to cook for a while.”

“Thanks for finally making the effort.”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

Narita left him to it to shower and get changed into loungewear. By the time he finished up the food was done and steaming on the table, Ennoshita already sitting down and frowning at his phone. Narita pulled back a chair and scooped up an ample portion of food, eating in compatible silence until Ennoshita finally pocketed the device with a sigh and they could strike up a conversation. Dinner passed quickly that way, the two of them swapping banter and life updates.

He and Kinoshita wound up playing Animal Crossing later that very night, Ennoshita silently handing over his 3DS with a pointed look that Narita chose not to interpret. DS to 3DS was a transition that Narita failed to make, content as he was to stick it out with Wild World and the decent collection of games sitting at the bottom of their television stand. Kinoshita didn’t need to know that Narita was borrowing a friend’s console and town just to open up its gates and get into wild, impromptu fishing competitions with him. Besides, it was fun for Narita too, playing games again like he used to all the time before work swept him up in its tiring daily grind. Sure he could invest his free time into doing something more intellectual, like starting in on that pile of rapidly accumulating books that had gathered between him and Ennoshita in the years since they began rooming with each other after college, now relegated into literal stacks around the overcrowded bookshelf, but games were easier to get into, and he read more than enough print for work anyway. The simple act of curling up on the couch and flicking the power to the little handheld device made some of the days stresses ebb away. Animal Crossing was stimulating without the struggle of having to chase a real plot line or fight bad guys, even if the game’s overall goal was the true terror of paying off a home loan.

“How old am I in here anyway? I wouldn’t be able to survive off fruit all day,” he muttered, flicking out the stylus and tapping the icon to start up the game and its cheery theme song.

“Deep,” Ennoshita commented, bending over the back of the couch to drop a charger into Narita’s lap, the cord curling in loops. “Philosophical. Don’t write any weird letters to my favorite neighbors this time. I don’t want anyone to move out. Everyone is perfect and I’ve worked hard to weed out the losers.”

“There’s something to be said for people who try to engineer their towns like that. What is it that you don’t like? Roosters?”

“Frogs. And it’s my town, I can be selective.” Ennoshita hovered, quiet, watching Narita clean out his mailbox and yank a few weeds before giving up the tedious task entirely.

“Prejudiced against amphibians?”

“It’s just weird seeing them walk and talk when you can turn around and catch one in the pond.”

“You know, realism isn’t really the point of a fake town filled with talking animals…” Ennoshita swatted Narita’s shoulder before pushing away from the couch.

“I’m going for a walk.” Ennoshita announced, swiping his keys up from the kitchen counter. They chimed musically as he toyed with the ring. “I’ll be… Maybe an hour or so. Do you need anything?”

“Uh… I don’t think so.” Narita spared a glance at the ticking wall clock. 10:23 PM. Certainly not the oddest time he’s heard the creak of the front door opening and closing before one of Ennoshita’s impromptu strolls. Narita has long since given Ennoshita up to his strange late night habits, the things he did whenever he was in a slump or in need of a break. He’d done the same things even in college whenever coursework stressed him out. Once Narita found him perched in a snow covered chair on their balcony with nothing but flimsy pajamas, slippers, a cup of tea, and a quip of ‘No comment’ when Narita bemusedly opened the sliding door. And now with this new gig of his, Narita simply wasn’t sure how his roommate managed to squeeze in enough sleep to function for the day.

He watched as, like clockwork, Ennoshita lingered by the door and double checked the contents of his pockets, rifling through his phone, keys, earbuds, wallet, notepad, and pen before stuffing them all back into his pockets and toeing on his shoes. The front door opened and closed with a soft clang, Ennoshita’s footsteps receding down the creaky hallway.

Once they faded away Narita sighed and sunk into the couch more completely, letting the fuller silence of the apartment settle down, body relaxing with each breath. Ennoshita was an easy roommate to get along with even on the worst of days but Narita still appreciated the moment when he could have the whole place to himself for a few minutes during the day to fully unwind. He rarely went so far as creating a spectacle like blasting music and dancing silly by himself to its tune, but he allowed himself to stretch out lengthwise on the couch and prop his head on the armrest, neck bolstered by a pillow. One leg bent and the other straightened along the length of the cushion. He patted around for his phone and tapped out a quick message.

> hey, gates are open!

**< okay**

Moments later Kinoshita’s villager plummeted into the pitfall that Narita buried before the gates to welcome him, a trap deceptively cushioned between some pretty flowers, and when Kinoshita finally wormed his way free and threatened to turn around and leave Narita offered him first pick at whatever Tom Nook might have in stock for the day. It worked. Kinoshita exited, seemingly satisfied, with the gaudiest wallpaper known to mankind.

They leaped straight into fishing afterwards, walking the bends of the river and taking turns reeling in the writhing shadows lurking beneath the bright blue water.

 _u still suck,_ Kinoshita’s villager announced when Narita let another fish slip away with a cringingly mistimed jab of the button. He has never hated the graceful rush of a waterfall so much in his life.

 _that’s what she said,_ he replied. He checked his pockets and tossed a few crappy fish back into the water to free up more space. Tried again a ways downstream.

_really?_

Narita frowned, focusing on the nibbles on the line as it lured in another fish. This time when the splash came, Narita hooked it with a heavy push of the button and an exclamation of ‘ha!’ that he’s glad no one was around to hear. Settling, he reopened the keyboard. _she said it last night_

_youre rlly losing the joke_

_that’s what she said?_

Kinoshita’s villager immediately began walking away, and Narita laughed at the little glowing screen clutched in his hands before giving chase least he lose the other in the clutter of blooming trees and flowers.

**

**< sorry the wifi is super bad here**

> it’s okay. where are you at?

**< this hole in the wall restaurant with really good ramen**

**< ugliest décor ever though**

**< [img45864]**

> … i think i’ve been there before. give me another angle

**< [img23510]**

Narita almost fumbled his phone when he laid eyes on the picture. Instead of a simple snapshot of the interior the image included Kinoshita grinning so wide his eyes squinted up, nose wrinkled, chopsticks balanced around a thrown up peace sign. It wasn't the first photo he's seen of him. But it wasn't the hundredth either, rare enough that he could pick out the loss of the other's summer tan, smudges of paint lodged under the nails of his fingers, something that looked like it could be the crease of a dimple... oh god, just one dimple... Narita started when he realized his reply was taking too long. One frenzied squint at the backdrop proved his initial suspicions correct. Terrible wallpaper, cozy mood lighting, paper lamps, iffy color scheme, sorely out of place paper mobile hanging from one corner of the ceiling…

> yep, i’ve been there before

**< nice. small world, huh?**

 > really

**

After that Narita began to suffer unbelievable urges to be close to Kinoshita. Physically close, starting with that mutually familiar hole-in-the-wall restaurant that served really good ramen. He imagined them sitting at the high counter together, eating, talking over the hiss of the grill, drinking, brushing shoulders (was Kinoshita right handed or left?), bumping knees and not pulling away from the contact. He wondered if Kinoshita was just camera shy or _shy_ shy and if that was the reason why they’d yet to migrate from texting and the occasional call to video chatting. He wondered what Kinoshita’s sarcasm looked like on his face instead of through a line of text, how his mouth would crook around a joke, if he talked with his hands or laughed brashly or held his liquor poorly. These unwelcome musings visited him at even the most inconvenient times, once leaving him groaning out loud in the middle of a meeting. It had drawn a startled gaze from the woman throwing a pitch, and Narita had to apologize for his rudeness later and assure that it was by no means a reflection of his company’s interest (or lack thereof) in doing business with them.

“You’re pining so hard,” Tanaka had greeted as they all filed out. Narita didn’t exactly have a ready counterargument other than a half-defeated grumble. Tanaka dropped his hands on both of Narita shoulders, gave them a squeeze, and said solemnly, “Please ask to hang out with him sometime this century.”

**

He thought about. Over the course of a full week he pondered whether or not he should simply swallow down his trepidation and contentedness for what they already had in order to pursue something more. Something not impeded by one screen or another. It was a logical leap, wasn’t it, wanting to meet someone you’ve known online for so long? Someone whose company you enjoyed and vice versa? They texted nearly every day now as it was, winding conversations that bounced from topic to topic but never ended in solid things like _good morning_ or _good night_  but were merely plucked up again like a continuous thread with each response. Such everyday interactions made him think that it would be fine asking Kinoshita to hang out. That he might be acting ridiculous for finding such a task daunting, twenty-four years old and housing butterflies within his rib cage again, feeling their wings scrape every time he learned something new about Kinoshita.

 _Maybe tomorrow,_ he thought, and when tomorrow came, _Maybe next time._

But the more he pushed it off, Kinoshita offering no signs of wanting to meet up, the more it felt like he would be stuck at their happy status quo forever.

 _Maybe I’m fine with that too,_ he thought, but suspected that there was a frown pulling down the corners of his lips again.

**

Another two weeks passed as usual. Narita found himself wrapping up a hump day with an outing accompanied by friends from work. They were a ragtag group when piled together, just shy of rowdy by sheer force of Tanaka’s presence alone, but the excitement was a nice interlude for the week and left Narita pleasantly buzzed and content. Between the time they went out to grab a bite to eat and the moment they all paid the bill and bid each other farewell, the skies had darkened, clouded over, opened up and began to downpour. Narita huddled by the entrance and sighed in the dreary air, trying to pick out his umbrella among the clutter of other identical looking umbrellas left by the door. Eventually he settled for picking one up in the region he thought he tossed his in an hour ago, opened it, and forged out into the unsheltered sidewalk with his coat shrugged tight around him.

It was a few blocks from the restaurant to the train station, cold and windy and dark. Narita braced against the night with his head down for most of the way, knowing the area well enough to space out during the walk. He glanced up only to double check his bearings and side step a puddle. In the moment he lifted his head he caught sight of a speck of color among the drab black-gray-brown outerwear. Attention drawn, he looked with passing fancy and then did a double-take when the vibrant umbrella angled up just enough to reveal the person sheltered beneath it.

The man’s eyes were squinted up in the sudden breeze and onslaught of rain, his nose wrinkled. They passed each other, Narita’s heart pounding hard beneath his sternum. He paused, stopped. Whirled around and watched Kinoshita’s disappearing back melt its way into the black, certainty rising thick in his throat even if he had never witnessed that gait before in his life. It was Kinoshita. It struck him that he’d never felt a moment quite like this descend on him before, his chest aching with how much he wanted to call out, but with legs frozen stiff and unmoving to the concrete. A moment so full, startling, balanced on a knife’s edge of a missed opportunity. He felt himself tilting toward _missed, missed, missed_ with each passing second and, fueled on want and risk, hauled himself up over to the other side.

“Kinoshita!” he called out, but there was no strength in it. The rain fell with more power. The other’s back was fading fast, flickering through the shuffle of the crowd. He summoned the volume he used to toss out on the volleyball court back in high school and managed to break one foot free from the sidewalk, one stuttered footfall that turns into a jog, and bellowed, “Kinoshita!!”

Everything stood still in the moment between the exclamation flying from his mouth and Kinoshita’s hesitant turn at the sound of his name being called. Kinoshita’s gaze swept across the sidewalk, searching. Their eyes met, the connection instant and grabbing, and Narita took everything in at once: the tilt of the light blue umbrella gripped in his hand, the glow of the lamplight falling over it from above broken by drops of rain, the navy sweater and buttoned up shirt collar beneath it, the large olive green portfolio swinging to a stop by his side, the two quick, pronounced blinks of his eyes, recognition washing over his face and out of his mouth.

“…Narita?”

A violent gust blew down the street, pushing at the late hour crowd and billowing up under Kinoshita’s umbrella so hard it flipped inside out. Discontented complaints rose from other passerbies who wrestle their belongings against the wind but Narita was too preoccupied with dashing over to assist Kinoshita to care about anyone else’s fate. Kinoshita seemed much more concerned with bodily shielding his portfolio against the elements, shifting his back against the slanting rain.

Narita floundered for a moment – noticed the scant centimeters he had over Kinoshita when the other straightened up – before tilting his own umbrella to cover them both as much as possible. It was mostly a moot effort, rain still slanting on a vicious whip of wind. They both backed underneath the overhanging of a storefront, squeezing beneath the sliver of dry cover it gave. Excitement crawled over his skin like ants at their sudden proximity. Kinoshita's hair had darkened with the rain. There was a trembling drop of water waiting to drip from his chin.

“Fuck,” Kinoshita said, and Narita remembered that the circumstances of their meeting were not ideal.

“I’m _so_ sorry…" He rasped. "Are your things okay?”

Kinoshita’s umbrella made a series of cracking noises as Kinoshita flipped the canopy down. Even after the manhandling the plastic into the right shape it’s all saggy and crooked around the spindles, obviously broken, one half of the umbrella collapsing inwards when the man tried to open it up. It got stuck halfway. They both stared at it for a morose second.

“I think it’s dead,” Kinoshita concluded, frown playing on his lips.

They lapsed into another semi-mournful, semi-awkward silence, rain pattering around them. Narita could kick himself. Here was an opportunity fallen into his lap, bravely wrested from more like, his chance to talk to his friend slash increasingly undeniable crush face-to-face and words decided to absolutely abandon him. It seemed too late for a simple _How are you?_ or _What are you up to?_ or some other plain segue. The silence was stretching. Narita shifted, shaking out his dripping umbrella with a nervous flutter of the wrist.

He stared out into the crowd as he formed his words, grasping for courage in the myriad of unfamiliar faces blurring by. Cleared his throat. “The… The weather is kind of bad and I live around here if you want to… I mean, it’s a couple train stops away so it may not be very convenient, but if you need to dry off and check if your portfolio is okay, I’d hate if something got ruined or… My umbrella is sturdy if you want to borrow it and I can go pick another one up in a store somewhere?” He risked a head-on glance at Kinoshita only to see the other was already staring straight at him with wide, sharp eyes. Even in the paltry lamplight they shined a dark brown. Narita’s stomach dropped and he quickly backpedaled. “No? Of course not. You might not even live in the metropolitan area.”

“Sorry," Kinoshita sounded somewhat different without a speaker between them. Deeper, fuller, stripped of the tinny quality of speakers. "It’s just...”

“That was presumptuous of me and I—”

“No, that’s not it.”

“You probably don’t even have the time right now to—”

“Narita! Jeez, stop rambling for a second!” Narita clamped his mouth shut, but it loosened the moment he noticed that there was no irritation tightening Kinoshita’s face. He looked amused, exasperated, a little tired, and all of a sudden it wasn’t the expression of a baffled stranger on Kinoshita’s face but that of the person Narita had become close to over the course of months. “I was trying to say that I live around here too. Close by, within walking distance actually, if you want to…?”

The invitation hung half-formed in the air. It was almost surreal seeing how Kinoshita’s voice matched up to his body language, how even with the steadiness of his invitation he clasped at the strap of his portfolio in fidgety pulses and left his gaze somewhere slightly askance from Narita’s eyes. Narita eagerly snapped the offer up, uncaring of the over-enthusiasm lifting his reply. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Okay,” Kinoshita confirmed, shoulders going lax, looking at Narita for a quiet moment before pushing away from the dry oasis of the storefront overhanging. “Keep your umbrella. I’m going to run for it.”

**

He gasped, breathless, as Kinoshita prodded the elevator’s call button. Narita shivered in the harshly air-conditioned lobby of the apartment complex. Kinoshita really had run all the way back and he was _fast,_ leaving Narita no choice but to give chase or risk being left behind. Or maybe not. Kinoshita had peered over his shoulder several times to check if he was still keeping pace, showing enough consideration to blow away the brunt of Narita’s embarrassment at hurling and wheezing down a sidewalk in his work clothes with an umbrella twisting in his grip after every hurried, windy footfall. It had been a while since he last ran pell-mell for anything more than a departing train and his lungs burned around every breath for the exertion, body warmed by a healthy dose of adrenaline that made the fluorescent lining the elevator ceiling shine sharper. He tried to modulate his breathing so he didn’t sound quite so haggard, but Kinoshita’s shoulders were rising and falling too as he led them off the elevator and down a narrow corridor, and Kinoshita’s hand shook gently as he tried to shove his key into the lock.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Narita muttered as they crossed the threshold.

“So formal.” They toed their shoes off in the small genkan, Kinoshita gesturing to where he can hang his dripping coat before rushing inside. “I live by myself. I told you about that before, didn’t I?”

“I… think so.” _I think my neighbors hate me_ , Narita recalled reading, _but I have to play music out loud when I’m pulling an all-nighter or else I’d fall asleep._ Kinoshita mentioned having a roommate once but said it didn’t work out and he moved into a smaller place about a year ago. Narita fiercely tried not to make any assumptions about that tidbit of information. (Bad roommate or a bad breakup? Something else? It could have been an issue of rent or location.)

Narita hoped he wasn’t tracking water into the apartment. His socks felt wet at the toes but he didn’t see any slippers to change into and Kinoshita swiftly stranded him in the living room and turned down a hallway, not returning for a while. Narita guessed he was tending to his belongings and didn’t fault him for being an inattentive host. It gave time for Narita to look around without feeling like a snoop. The space is clearly a bachelor’s pad meant for one, small in size and amazingly cluttered. A television and sound system pushed up against one wall, cords swimming out from a Playstation and cable box, table and sofa positioned before it, small kitchenette taking up the rest of the space, bathroom and bedroom presumably at the end of the small hallway branching off to the side. Things scattered _everywhere._ He hadn’t been expecting the untidiness but found it strangely disarming to take in.

Narita startled when he heard a huff and turned to see Kinoshita standing closer than expected. He'd changed into a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, bare feet padding silent across the room. His hair stuck up at an odd angle in the back like he’d swiftly run a towel through it, wefts curling against against his forehead.

 _Don't stare,_ Narita chided, amazed that something as innocuous as damp hair was distracting him. “Is your stuff okay…?”

“Mostly. Some of my prints got wet and started bleeding, which is fine for the digital stuff but not for the traditional ones. I flattened them out and can only hope they won’t curl up too bad.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit.” Kinoshita sighed, looking resigned. “My fault though. I’ve had that cheap, stupid thing since college and I should have upgraded it to something waterproof. Or rolled everything up in a tube instead of being so lazy this morning. Or just checked the weather for whatever that was outside.”

Narita hummed in sympathy, not knowing how else to remediate the situation. He felt half at blame for the turn of events since it was his shout that prompted Kinoshita to turn around in the first place and fall victim to a bad draft. Maybe that wasn’t _all_ his blame to take, but… Kinoshita stepped deeper into the living area, came to a sudden stand still, and then crouched down to hurriedly clearing up some clutter.

“It’s fine!” Narita reassured, hardly minding the state of the room.

“You sure? It’s _really_ messy, I haven’t had any real guests over in a while. You can sit down right, fff--” The word hissed away as Kinoshita whirled around to the couch and hastily neatened a fleece throw and a few cushions. Kinoshita’s earlier comfort seemed to be flying away in record time. Seeing him get so worked up bolstered Narita’s will to at least have the other to feel at home inside his own home.

“Kinoshita,” Narita said, slow and measured. Kinoshita paused with a pile of papers and letters clasped in one hand and an empty glass in the other, turning that wide eyed glance upon Narita again, who silently summoned more willpower, pointed at the bundle and said, “Drop it.” When Kinoshita hesitated, Narita nodded and flicked his finger toward the table. Kinoshita dropped the mail into a lopsided pile on the table once more, and then he lowered the glass back into the spot that had gotten cleaned up mere seconds ago, bottom aligned neatly with a ringed water stain left there. Satisfied, Narita lowered his arm. “Good boy.”

Kinoshita released a startled laugh, cheeks dusting pink, and Narita was ready to pat himself on the back for actually, successfully diffusing the tension without tripping over his own tongue (and storing away that reaction, _whatever_ it meant, he _wouldn't_ survive thinking about it now) when Kinoshita jolted into action again.

“Okay, so. Drinks!” Kinoshita yelped, turning away into the small kitchen area. It was still visible from where Narita sat. He watched him pull down a pair of mismatched cups, mumble something unintelligible, pause and scrub a hand down his face, and then pour the drinks. Narita, helplessly and horribly endeared, stopped watching and stared hard at his hands instead, wanting either to throw himself bodily across the sofa or smother himself with one of its cushions. Maybe both.

Minutes later Kinoshita returned and pushed a glass into his field of vision. Narita took it with a small “Thanks” and swallowed several gulps of tangy citrus, hoping to wash his heartbeat down from where it’d lodged in his throat. Clearing his palate loudly, he grasped for lightheartedness. “For a second I thought you were bringing out alcohol.”

“Oh. Uh, did you want a beer? I forgot to ask what you wanted. Crap, do you mind juice? I don’t think I have any beer.”

“No, no, this is fine. It’s good.” Narita waved it off before Kinoshita bolted, heaving a small laugh. “You’re making me so nervous.”

“You’re nervous? _I’m_ nervous.”

“Obviously!” Narita returned, peering over to where Kinoshita had sat down and slumped his head back, one hand slung over his face, fingers curled around the handle of a mug. After a not totally uncomfortable silence Kinoshita parted his fingers and squinted through them, asking, “Have you eaten yet?”

“Oh, my god,” Narita mouthed around the glass pushed against his lip. He lowered the drink without taking a sip, prodding a clean space on the low table. “I just came back from a dinner with coworkers so I’m stuffed. If you’re hungry go ahead and eat, I won’t find it rude at all. Like… Maybe having something in your mouth will stop your compulsive politeness?”

“Ugh,” Kinoshita groaned, hopping to his feet and retreating to the kitchen again. Narita willed himself not to track him this time, marking out the commotion through the sounds that rang out. The fridge door opening, humming a little brighter for it. Things being rifled around, the pop of a lid, the microwave door opening and closing, chased by a few beeps and a whir as it heated something up. A drawer creaking open, utensils rattling together. Cupboard door, and then silence but for the undulating microwave. The domestic sounds were oddly comforting, putting him more at ease. It must have done the same to Kinoshita, for when he returned with a bowl in hand and reclaimed his seat he appeared much less wired up, and he didn’t bother trying to force a conversation before spooning food into his mouth. Narita sent up a silent thank you and nursed his juice as slowly as possible, trying to read the titles of the games and books on the far bookshelf, finding it full of sci fi and fantasy. City sounds wafted up through the cracked window. Rain still poured from the overcast skies in a constant rush. The poor weather turned the air slightly stuffy and humid, but every once in a while a cool breeze flitted across Narita’s skin and rustled the papers heaped on the table.

When Narita glanced over he found Kinoshita already looking his way. They smiled around their drinks and dropped their heads, passing a few minutes in silence.

“This is weird,” Kinoshita announced. “But also not.”

Narita glanced up again to see Kinoshita pushing his food around in lazy loops, one knee drawn up to his chest. His sleeves were too long, pushed up and slouching over his slim wrists.

“I know what you mean,” Naita answered, thrilled when Kinoshita grinned down at his bowl like he was pleased by the agreement. The brunt of Narita’s leftover nerves slackened away after that, falling by the wayside to make room for a startling amount of ease. It felt like they’d done this before even though every corner of the apartment he glanced at is undoubtedly new and foreign territory, from the lounge area with its sofa and cluttered table to the hallway branching off to the side. But it was scattered with the interests and hobbies that Kinoshita had mentioned many times before: that bookshelf full of books and game cases, the tilted drafting table crammed in the limited space nearest the window where natural light likely lingered the longest during the day (arguably the neatest kept space he’s laid eyes on yet), a bundle of pens rolled up on the low table before, a mason jar full of watered down ink, stained sumi brushes sprouting from a red solo cups, a lace doily poking out from the mess.

“What were you doing before I pulled you over?” Narita asked, tearing his eyes away.

“Coming back from seeing someone who wants to commission me.”

“Really? That’s great.”

Kinoshita smiled small. “Yeah. I was about to tell you about it if things went smoothly. Well, I guess I can tell you _now..._ Last year I took a commission from a couple who were having their kid’s first birthday. They had the story written out already and I did the illustrations for it, children’s book style. They wanted their dog to be in it too. It was superhero themed with the baby and the dog going on adventures together, and now they’re having a second kid!” Kinoshita’s smile broke free and he put his bowl down, hands coming alive and gestural. “I’m already swamped but knowing that they liked it so much and wanted to make it a _thing_ for their second child… I had to say yes. And I’ve gotten better since then so I really want to give them something good. I brought over newer stuff to show them and everything, and I got to see Fumi-chan in person. She is _so_ cute, I think I failed capturing her… her babyness.”

“Babyness.”

“You know, when you see a baby and they’re just so…” His fingers unfurled, eyebrows shooting upward.

“…Chubby?” He tried.

Kinoshita snorted. “She is! But what about you? Was your coworker dinner for anything special or were you just out and about? Do you work this close to where I live?”

“Oh no, my workplace is closer to the downtown area but my friend suggested this place that came well recommended so we all took a further trip for dinner than usual. I work in marketing, you know, but we weren’t celebrating anything in particular… Just having a normal outing together.”

“Eh, that sounds nice.”

“Does it? Most people think office jobs are boring.”

“Well, you’re not boring,” Kinoshita muttered, Narita looking up to see Kinoshita looking steadily at him even when their eyes catch and hold. “I feel like I know you.”

Narita swallowed, tipped his glass and realized that its contents were empty. “You kind of do.”

“Isn’t that cool?”

“Would you have wanted to meet up if we hadn’t run into each other?” Narita blurted, wincing when it came out more demanding than he liked. “To hang out or something.”

“I would’ve!” Kinoshita responded with more volume than expected and seemed to notice it, modulating his voice. “Eventually. I wanted to, I would’ve sooner. I just, I don’t know – get anxious about first time meet ups?”

“Oh,” Narita breathed, because that made sense and had nothing to do with not wanting to meet up at all. He could understand the reluctance of taking the next step since he’d been waffling for so long himself.

 _“You_ never suggested it either, to be fair.”

Narita grimaced, caught. “I was working up to it.”

“What, like were you going to spell it out with flowers the next time I visited your town?” Kinoshita laughed, wearing a smirk as a half smile that had the corners of Narita’s mouth lifting too.

“No, like I have a friend who’s been bugging me about asking you out for ages now.” He bit the inside of his cheek, realizing the slip of _ask you out_ that had fallen off his tongue, but Kinoshita merely hummed and put pulled a cushion into his lap.

“Kenma got on my case too, but I think they were just pissed about you eating up my valuable gaming time.”

Narita grinned with teeth. “I’m sorry you have to take care of a novice like me!”

“You’re _rusty_ but I get the feeling that you’re not a novice. At least you don’t wind up running your player into a corner for five straight minutes – _that’s_ a novice. Unless you went home and practiced all night just to impress me when we played-- Hey!” Kinoshita deflected the pillow Narita launched at him. “You can’t assault me in my own home!”

“You’re insulting my skills!”

“I do that like _every day!”_

The next thing Narita picked up was a scarf thrown haphazardly over the back of the sofa. When he tried to throw it the fabric fluttered light and ineffective downward, the both of them watching it in silence before a laugh rattled out of Kinoshita. “God, this is so stupid. We should have met up sooner.”

“You’re telling me.”

Kinoshita shook his head. He cleared off his lap and got to his feet, grabbing his bowl and glass, nestling the latter in Narita’s cup when he lifted it up. Narita could feel the smile still playing on his lips as Kinoshita clattered the dishes into the sink, mused about offering to help clean up until he dug out his cell phone and ogled the time. The very _late_ time. He cursed and got up, stepping toward the kitchen, not needing to call out to get the other’s attention.

“What’s up?” Kinoshita shut off the faucet, flicking water from his fingers.

“I should go…” Narita said, hurrying on when something shifted on Kinoshita’s expression, turned worryingly tremulous. “Sorry, I’d love to stay! But I lost track of time and I still need to hop on the train to get back home. I’d _really_ love to talk some more, Kinoshita, you have no idea.”

“No, it’s fine. Sorry for keeping you for so long. You probably need to get some sleep.”

“Like some people do.”

“Weak,” Kinoshita intoned, drying his hands on a small towel. They both moved towards the door, Kinoshita hanging back while Narita toed his shoes back on and shrugged into his coat, shivering at the still wet material. The prospect of having to go back out and suffer the wind and rain was a thousand times less pleasant than before, but he forced himself through the motions and picked up his umbrella, stepping past the front door’s threshold. A chill seeped over him at once, making him miss the warmth of the apartment.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” Kinoshita had one hand wrapped around the doorknob, propping the door open. This time Narita didn’t need to guess at the hopefulness tingeing the other’s voice. It was out on display in full force, cushioned by a dose of vulnerability, and Narita wanted to take the moment and wrap it up safely, feeling his heart leap up his throat again.

“Yes.” Narita took a breath and smiled. “Definitely.”

 

 

The train ride back was quiet, yet when Narita stepped foot home and checked his phone he had a text from Kinoshita that he must have failed to feel vibrate.

**< sorry**

Frowning, he clumsily shed his coat and opened up his umbrella to let it dry close to the door. Where was this coming from?

> sorry for what?

**< for making the weirdest first impression ever**

> it wasn’t weird at all. remember i’m the one who called you out in the middle of the street

**< that’s true…**

He waited for more but nothing came, so Narita busied himself with his nightly routine. Ennoshita’s door was cracked, and when he bumped it open the bedroom was empty. Narita hummed and shut the door, figuring that he might be sleeping over someone else’s place – it wasn’t unusual for Ennoshita to forget to notify Narita about spending a night away. Narita had the sneaking suspicion that his roommate might be seeing someone, but as of yet he hasn’t been able to confirm or deny anything. He couldn’t tell if the secretiveness is purposeful or not and didn’t let it bother him, knowing the other’s penchant for privacy. It could very well be work related, for all he knew.

Plugging up his phone and checking it one more time, Narita scurried to the bathroom for a quick shower and brush of the teeth. He’s sluggish and tired by the time he finished up, ready to turn in for the night. Flicking the lights off, he tiptoed to bed and woke up his phone to double check his alarms. He opened up the new messages waiting for him, squinting through the harsh light of the screen.

**< do you want to meet up tomorrow?**

**< i mean if that works for you**

**< sorry! i forgot you keep normal work hours!**

**< forget that, we can plan something for later**

> sorry, i was commuting and getting ready for bed! tomorrow works! but it would have to be for breakfast or lunch

A new text popped up less than a minute later.

**< yeah, okay. how early is breakfast?**

> uh… early. seven, seven-thirty?

**< oh god. okay. i need a reason to get up earlier anyway. i’ll go wherever’s convenient for you**

> i’ll look something up and send the address to you. you better go to sleep early if you want to be rested

**< right**

Narita turned onto his side and hesitated for so long his screen went dim. Then, in a single sweep he typed out a final message.

> i’ll see you in the morning. goodnight!

He threw his phone down on the bed with a huff only to hear it vibrate, sending him lunging for the device again.

**< night!**

Grinning, he threw his phone down again, so restless it took a full hour for sleep to grace him.

**

Ennoshita was sitting at the kitchen table when Narita walked, dressed, out from his bedroom the next morning. A steaming mug of coffee cupped in one hand, his roommate looked like he’d either gotten no or very little sleep.

“If I didn’t know what you did for a living I’d be really concerned right now,” Narita said.

“Hah,” Ennoshita retorted. “Breakfast?”

“I’m eating out today.”

And it was a testament to Ennoshita’s state that he left it at that, simply raising his mug in mock toast before dropping his eyes back down to his smartphone.

Breezing out the door, Narita briefly considered checking if Kinoshita was even awake yet. He had spent an inordinate amount of time tossing up two suggestions for their outing: a café or a diner. The former was easy and casual, if crowded in the morning rush of people trying to get their daily caffeine fix. In the end he went with a sit-down diner, still casual but with the bonus of having more options than a simple bakery could offer. And if neither of them wanted an elaborate meal, it would be just as easy to talk over a coffee.

The weather was infinitely nicer than the previous night, sun peeking out as if apologizing for the trouble. Narita showed up first and claimed a booth, setting his phone on the table just in case a message or call came in. Ten minutes later the door chimed, Narita glanced up, and saw Kinoshita scan the area before landing eyes on him, the connection instant and grabbing. He didn’t think that watching the other walk all the way to the booth was weird until Kinoshita was sliding in, smelling like the autumn breeze he’d drug in from the door.

“Hi,” Kinoshita said.

“Hey,” Narita breathed, looking Kinoshita over in a quick sweep. He wore casual clothes, a t-shirt and jeans under a light coat. “How much sleep did you get?”

Kinoshita smirked that half smile that Narita liked more and more each time it appeared. “Like two whole hours.”

 _“Artists.”_ Narita hissed.

"Pencil pushers!" Kinoshita replied. He leaned back as a waitress swung by and placed their menus and two glasses of water down, saying she would be back for their orders shortly. “Your roommate does art too, right?”

“Yeah, he's breaking into the film business. Ever since he landed this directing job he’s been running himself into the ground. It’s a really great chance for him but I’m starting to get worried.”

“Is he the type to overwork himself?”

“All the time, and you wouldn’t even know it because he manages it so well.”

“Sounds like something you should keep an eye on. But maybe he’s just getting used to the workload? That happens to me all the time when I get a new project. Believe it or not, my apartment doesn’t always look like that.”

“Oh. It was very… cozy.”

“Stop,” Kinoshita laughed, falling silent to take in his surroundings. "Do you come here a lot?"

"Not really. I usually don't have time to sit down and eat. Work has free coffee too."

"Lucky you..." Finished with the perusal, Kinoshita glanced briefly at Narita before lowering his eyes. “These portions look wild,” he mumbled, flitting over the menu. “Wanna split an order of pancakes?”

“Deal.”

“Then I’ll just get some coffee.”

“That’s all you’re having?”

Kinoshita nodded and flipped the menu down. When the waitress came around again they both placed their orders. Narita spent the lull trying and failing not to look at Kinoshita as casually as possible. He seemed relaxed today despite the early time.  _And really attractive._ Narita had been trying to push that thought down since the previous night but now, mere hours later, he can’t find the will to deny himself the confession. All it took was one day and a threadbare hour for Narita to want more of Kinoshita’s time, his presence, his company in person and within reach.

Their food came quickly, the two of them latching onto their coffees with likeminded weariness. Kinoshita held his in both hands for a while like he simply wanted to warm them, and it was unfairly cute.

Kinoshita eyes cut upward, making Narita flinch with the timing to his thoughts. “I brought a picture of Fumi-chan. Wanna see?”

“S-Sure,” Narita agreed, wondering if Kinoshita liked children or had a particular soft spot for this one in particular. Kinoshita flipped through his phone for a moment before extending it, the both of them leaning toward the middle of the table.

“Oh, whoops, not that one,” Kinoshita said, grinning, and Narita curiously peeked down at the picture to see a bathroom selfie that immediately had his face going red until he realized, a bare second later, that it was not Kinoshita’s torso bared to the mirror but a torso that looks frighteningly similar to… his own torso… along with the shower curtains in the background, and the familiar shape and color of the sink, and the brand of soap visible just by one of the nozzles, and Kinoshita was showing him his own questionable selfie that he thought he buried weeks ago.

Narita did the respectable thing. He launched himself half out of his seat, grabbing for the phone. Inevitably, his arm knocked against his mug of Kinoshita’s other hand shot out quicker than anything to catch the wobbling cup before it spilled.

“Oops,” Kinoshita said, charmed, carefully righting the cup.

“You’re laughing!”

“No I’m not. Sit down.”

“Put that away!” Narita hissed when his butt was planted in his seat once more, glancing over a shoulder to see if any servers were near enough to see the phone screen. Even from the distance it would be obvious what the picture was, or at least that it wasn’t totally appropriate to have out in the open in the middle of a _family friendly_  diner. His stomach twisted just thinking of the awkward, judging look someone might give him upon seeing it, questioning his standards. Maybe even his morals. “A friend made me put that up there.”

“As in you already had a shirtless selfie at hand or your friend made you take the shirtless selfie _and_ put it up on a dating app?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

Kinoshita leaned forward, hand still on the phone. “Why are you whispering?”

“Because there are _kids_ in the booth behind us and I don’t want them to hear…”

Kinoshita’s eyes moved over Narita’s shoulder. Narita used that time to calculate the distance to Kinoshita’s hand. The phone had dimmed while they talked but Kinoshita idly tapped it with his pointer finger and the screen lit up again. Narita bit back a groan.

“They’re teenagers. I don’t think they care. I think you care way more than they care.”

“Kinoshita…”

“Okay, okay,” Kinoshita relented, thumbing hovering over his screen. “Do you go to the gym or something?”

Narita chuckled, surprised. Kinoshita’s head popped up, eyes wide and blinking. He quickly reeled in his humor. “I used to play volleyball, that’s all. In high school and casually in college. Tanaka drags me to his neighborhood association matches sometimes whenever they’re short a few players. I don’t… do the gym thing. Honestly, that picture is old.”

“Oh,” Kinoshita replied, more the movement of his mouth rather than a voiced response. "That explains your hair too. You have some now - it's pretty curly."

Narita murmured agreement, gulped coffee and tried to let the topic fall away. He realized that the picture had been pulled up from the photo album on Kinoshita’s phone, wanted to ask if that means he saved Narita’s photo and why, but the chance was gone when Kinoshita displayed his phone again and said, abruptly, “This is Fumi-chan.”

A picture of the little girl sitting in a booster seat, rosy-cheeked and beaming.

"Cute," he offered.

"Right? And these... are my pets."

In the next picture Kinoshita had one rat perched on each shoulder, the one on the left a solid gray with a pink tail curled against his dark colored shirt, reminding Narita of the quintessential vermin that infested the streets of every cartoon and movie dirty, dumpster-stuffed back alley. It’s not a favorable impression, so he looked at the rat on the right. It could objectively be called pretty with its white fur and specks of brown and tan dots, but then Narita remembered it’s a rat and tried not to do something offensive like grimace.

“That’s… You look like an evil mastermind.”

“Lord of Rats. Do you have any pets?”

“I think there’s… Here it is.” He turned his phone around, announcing, “Lord of Very Big Dog.”

“That’s for real? Jeez, so that's why you treated me like a dog the first time we met.” _Oh god, he remembered that._ Making no comment, Narita flicked to another picture and displayed it, grinning in response to Kinoshita’s bewilderedness. “It’s massive! I thought most people stopped at golden retriever size when owning dogs. What does it come up to? Your neck?” Kinoshita straightened up and tried to measure it out, hand landing high on his sternum, the cut of his palm slicing across the air in a slow horizontal. Narita noticed their slight height difference once already. It wasn’t that noticeable on it’s own, but he saw it now when Kinoshita’s hand hit scant centimeters lower.

“He’s a big dog - not _that_ big." Kinoshita lowered his hand from where it had skyrocketed toward the ceiling. "That’s why he lives at my parent’s house. He’s too big for the city. I don't think anyone would let me keep him in a rented place.”

“Poor thing, left out in the boonies.”

“Hey, I miss my dog too.”

“You didn’t abandon him out there with no one to take proper care of him, did you?”

“Of course not. My family cares for dogs as much as I do, and I try to visit whenever possible. I even bring him gifts.”

Kinoshita hummed, giving the photo one last glimpse before sliding his fingers over Narita's wrist in two light, patronizing taps. “Good boy,” Kinoshita quipped, smirking, and Narita choked on his forkful of pancake.

**

They melded into each other’s life as easily as their online relationship had unfolded. It wasn’t always convenient. It wasn’t without bouts of nerves and giddiness, brushed hands and shifting boundaries, but it felt so seamless that Narita wouldn’t trade it for the world.

(Perhaps with the exception of one thing. _More.)_

**

A significant impression he got was that Kinoshita was incredibly hard to read when it came to figuring out what he felt, exactly, for Narita. Positive things. He was sure that was a safe assumption to make by now. It never felt as if one of them sought the other's attention more than the other. He didn't feel pressured to provide things nor the urge to wildly censor himself. Didn't feel like a burden all the time for initiating a conversation. Didn't even get annoyed on those occasions when a text woke him up thirty precious minutes before his morning alarm went off. Narita's sure he wasn't alone in scrabbling along the _Are we friends or more?_ ladder with the way he sometimes caught Kinoshita looking at him from across the room or across the table or over the top of his laptop, tablet pen propped against his bottom lip. Little thrilling things he caught only because he tried to steal just as many glances whenever they were together. Kinoshita fumbled in those caught moments, glancing away and askance, but he never seemed to actively avoid them. That was enough encouragement, enough of an indicator that he wasn't floundering all on his own.

They had moments too. The first time Kinoshita came to Narita's flat and got along with Ennoshita so well that Narita quite unironically settled his chin in both hands and sighed, earning the sharp-tongued teasing of them both. The time Kinoshita fell asleep on him while watching a documentary. It had been hard to breath in the moments when Kinoshita’s warmth seeped into his side, each exhale-inhale leaving him more and more attuned to the person slouched against him. When they ducked into a fancy hotel lobby and Narita stretched his fingers over the keys of a gleaming grand piano sitting in the reception area, buoyed by the shock on Kinoshita's face, elated when he threw out song requests until the staff threw them out. When they talked and talked into the small hours of the morning, impending obligations shoved aside. All of these and more, more.

(Maybe a _little_ more.)

**

Narita visited Kinoshita's with the intent to sleep over one day, as uncomfortable as a night on that sofa was. It felt good not to be pressed for time though, to just come in and throw his overnight bag down and watch Kinoshita draw or get elbowed into playing a game that made the hours spiral away. Kinoshita was intent on trying to make him relive the days when he could afford to pull an all-nighter doing absolutely nothing productive. They had migrated from the living room sofa – the table rather clean now save for a few scattered pieces of mail and the detriment of their dinner and snacks – to the floor in front of tv, table pushed back, pillows strewn on the floor, controllers in hand and volume cranked up to what Narita called _obscenely loud and kind of a menace to society,_ an assessment that Kinoshita took with a snort and several polite jabs to the remote’s Volume Down button. Narita began loosing out as soon as the first yawn hit him while Kinoshita remained scarily ruthless even when Narita called a timeout _twice_ and sat his remote down to text Ennoshita about his whereabouts. When his death count reached the double digits Narita slung down his controller with a defeated groan, splaying backwards on a pillow.

“I’m never playing anything with you again.” He told the ceiling.

“Whoa, you hear that? I think I hear a baby crying.”

Out of habit Narita groped around for the nearest pillow and, upon finding none, settled for flicking a pen at the back of Kinoshita’s head, who yelped and hit pause.

“You need to stop doing that!”

“Maybe when you stop wiping the floor with me.”

Kinoshita leaned over him, smug, the television glow casting a mellow backdrop behind him. They played in the half-dark. Sometimes Kinoshita sat bent before his laptop for hours, not realizing the sun had set until Narita flicked the lights on. “You need to get on my level, Narita. Step up your game.”

Heavy, electric moments were becoming more and more common between them, yet their frequency didn’t stop the way Narita’s stomach swooped under Kinoshita’s gaze. The moment descending without preamble. The flush of heat that tickled over his cheeks when Kinoshita's expression shifted, softened and lost its edge, that gaze wondering over Narita's face with so much curious focus that he could almost feel it. Kinoshita drew him in in waves with the way he could flip between animated and reserved, anxious and sharply witty. He had to close his eyes against it, expected Kinoshita to move away, keep on playing as usual and for the moment to shatter. So when a bloom of heat blossomed by his side instead he couldn’t help the way his breath hitched and froze, one eye cracking open only to be plunged into darkness.

Kinoshita’s palm was warm as it cradled over his eyes, shutting away his vision. The video game music played in cheery loops around them, sounding like white noise beneath the roar of Narita’s rushing blood.

“Stay like that.” He listened to Kinoshita take a deep breath. He was almost ready to be sorely disappointed by the end of whatever sentence would come flying from Kinoshita’s mouth next, when the moment would break and he would be left to recover. Lurching worries like that should be gone by now with how close they’d become. Uncertainty still gripped him, especially when Kinoshita took another fortifying breath, like he was preparing for something difficult. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Narita managed, strength stripped from his voice. Kinoshita’s hand fell away. Narita kept his eyes shut tight, missed the warmth of his hand dearly until he felt fingers trail along his cheekbone, flutter away, then curve along his jawline and over his lips. Narita nearly gasped, mouth lightly falling open. Feeling the brush of fingertips against them a moment later, there and then fluttering away, leaving a wake of heat that he licked away.

“Kazuhito...” His name had never sounded so perfect on another’s tongue, from the crisp 'k' to the way his mouth shapes around the syllables and, wow, he’s endlessly grateful for a name with so many syllables if it meant having the other's voice wrapped around it. Couldn't manage to spin together a single one of his own. “Stay just like that.”

"Okay."

And when Kinoshita’s mouth slanted warm and electric over his own it came just as everything else had: Nerve-wrecking, breathless, and so much easier than he thought. When Narita broke the request for stillness, hand trailing blind up Kinoshita's arm and shoulder to cradle around his throat, he received an answer in a sigh that agitated all the butterflies perched within his rib cage into a whirlwind. Narita parted that sigh with a swipe of the tongue and, when Kinoshita opened up to it, thought:  _Maybe a little more._

**Author's Note:**

> ...and then they continued kissing for a straight hour, FINALLY. if you're my hqhols recipient reading this, hello! i hope you enjoyed this thing. i've never written kinonari before but it was a pleasant challenge to tackle, and these two feel like a cute and comfortable couple. i would love to board this tiny ship now.
> 
> everyone else, thanks for reading too!
> 
> edit: hello i'm back after hqhols creator reveals! much of the mood for this fic was inspired by a song what my recip had along with the prompt, so check it out and insert kinonari in there at your own risk! (it's cute, i promise) [Recessional](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nEqFWV6DfuI) by Vienna Teng
> 
> and i'd love to chat with anyone who's into this pair or the rest of the karasuno second years over at my twitter @chronikos :)


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